I watched the sun set from the plane back into DC on Inauguration Day. From my window seat, the sun – full and unrepentant – beamed til I could barely see it anymore, hardly keep my eyes trained on it, shining warmly over a calm ocean of clouds. The clouds, a mix of white and blue and orange and gold, stood firmly and did not break, no sign of scattering. They were content to soak up the rays. They were glorious.
Except I descended, back to earth, where looking up meant peering into an impenetrable cool relentless grey.
No, no, but I have kept the moment. I can get back there to stay suspended, nowhere in particular, above the ground.
Millennial Asian 
God, that feeling. You just took a photograph of a feeling and now I can’t unfeel it.
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